


Stolen Back

by VeronicaRich



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaRich/pseuds/VeronicaRich
Summary: Just one of hundreds of stories wondering what a first kiss might've looked like between these two.





	Stolen Back

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in 2004, for an LJ community.

“Here, boy.” Joshamee Gibbs dumped a swath of burlap wrapped around gems and coins on the deck before Will’s feet. “Your share o’ the spoils. What we could find beyond th’ rum and salted meats, leastways.”

Will nodded absently, leaning over to gather the loose ends of the heavy cloth and lift. One last look around to see everyone else divvying up the remainder of the day’s take, and he headed below, hoisting the makeshift bag, the flat of his sword slapping rhythmically against his outer thigh as he moved.

The sword had not been nearly enough when they took the privateer’s ship a few hours ago. Will’s hair had been clubbed back, but the scorching heat of the day had produced sweat nonetheless, a droplet stinging his eye as the other captain lunged for his belly; all that had saved Will was a sword he’d crafted, unerringly wielded by the helpful Captain Sparrow. Jack had sprung quite literally from nowhere – Will certainly hadn’t noticed him in the melee up on deck just prior to his distraction – and blocked the captain’s thrust, then fought the man back and planted his Turner Special into his Spanish gut. Stepping back, Jack had saluted the fallen man by touching the edge of his sword to his forehead, then gave up a bellow that everyone could surrender politely, seeing as their captain was dead and their lives and prize property of the crew of the _Black Pearl._

Prisoners were in the brig until they could be turned out somewhere harmlessly, the crew was splitting the spoils, Anamaria was going over her new ship with a fine-tooth comb – after all, Jack had promised, and she hardly counted the _Interceptor_ as payment in full, considering it was the Pearl that’d buried the smaller ship. All was as it should be, Will reflected as he let himself into the makeshift smithy and dropped his treasure on a bench. As was custom each afternoon, he withdrew the sword from his belt and returned it to the wall, though he didn’t polish it this time – he was far too distracted.

Jack had saved his life.

Oh, it wasn’t the first time and, to be fair, Will had kept his captain alive more times than he could recall to count. But today … after Jack had killed the privateer captain, he and Will had corralled the few crewmen unwilling to join their brothers in tossing aside arms and surrendering to the _Pearl_. They’d done so without direction from one another, perhaps only a couple of swift glances and nods, efficient. Which, in itself, was not unusual, until Will considered they hadn’t worked that in concert for some weeks now.

Ever since Jack kissed him.

Will sighed, feeling incredible guilt once again. He’d been perhaps correct to believe Jack capable of trying to end an argument with sex in some fashion, but he’d been too cynical, too quick, and all too ready to condemn him, even when Jack backed off, hands up, trying to explain his impulsive kiss away as a distraction to win their disagreement at the time. Until Anamaria explained later what a rotting fool Will had been to ignore Jack and pile insult on injury, he’d truly believed his own fury. Yet he’d kept quiet after the revelation, relaxing his accusatory expressions and avoiding Jack when possible, too disturbed by his own confusing desires to have it out with or apologize to Jack.

Working side by side earlier loosened something inside Will. He’d seen with what vengeance Jack had attacked the other captain, going so far as to kill the man for the offense of protecting his own ship and nearly stabbing Will in the process. Jack only killed if his own life were under immediate threat; his own skin mattered a great deal to him, he’d once explained to Will, and he wasn’t fond of any ideas someone else might get of depriving him of it. It’d been a lecture that each man must look out for himself lest he be distracted from self-preservation. Since Will had met the man, Jack had killed only three people – two in self-defense and one in vengeance. _Well, four now_ , he corrected himself. _And two in vengeance_ … it would seem, anyway.

They had to talk.

*****

Will stepped into Jack’s cabin without asking permission to enter, finding the captain kneeling before the trunk at the foot of his bed. Jack was rifling through, apparently searching for something or other. He watched for a bit, amused despite his urgent feeling to speak of less entertaining things. Finally, he spoke: “Lose something?”

Jack didn’t so much as glance up. “Not … quite yet.” He fished some more, tossed a couple of brightly-colored things over his shoulder, and rocked back on his heels, wearing a frown of consternation. “Well, damn.”

“Problem?” Will edged a bit closer, until he was standing by the bed. He forced down the discomfort such proximity to something so intimate of Jack’s produced deep within him.

“Can’ find it, ‘s all.” Jack shook his head, metal and gems clinking, and stood. “Ah, well. Run ‘cross it someday.” He looked at Will and cocked his head. “What can I do ye for?”

Will drew in a deep breath before he lost his nerve. “Wanted to talk to you. About something that … needs talking, between us.”

Jack blinked, then adopted a neutral, slightly boozy expression, lifting one shoulder elegantly in a shrug. “Figured that’d come up sooner’r later.”

“I guess a lot of people’d ask why,” Will explained. “ I figure there’s really only one good answer to that, in most cases.”

“Typically.” Jack didn’t drop his gaze, nor did he back away, but he seemed almost defensive in posture despite his careful construct of affected detachment. He lifted his chin an inch or so, almost managing to look down his nose toward the taller man. “So what needs talkin’?”

“Why _then_?” Will blurted, filling the immediate silence. “What made you think I’d welcome such a gesture from you?” He wasn’t accusatory, but neither did the question lack fire.

“Wasn’t ‘bout you welcomin’ anything.” Jack stepped sideways around the side of the trunk toward Will, but curiously, kept their distance. “It was … impulsive, Will.”

“Impulse.”

“Ever heard of it?” The expression Jack aimed his way shut him up for several seconds, giving the pirate the opportunity to speak further. “I was in th’ moment, I wanted t’ kiss you, an’ I did it.”

“And if you had it to do again, knowing what would happen?” Will challenged, eyes narrowing, body tensed.

“Still I’d do it.” Jack’s eyes flicked to Will’s mouth almost too fast to notice. “Was a moment when you were … off-guard. Not fightin’ me; not pushing.” His voice was low, much sober than his usual musical lilt, reflective.

“So you don’t like me fighting with you, then.”

“Oh, fightin’ _with_ me’s one thing entirely, mate,” Jack explained, waving a hand in airy gesture. “Seein’ as it’s our main form o’ communication, I’d rather not lose it. An’, it keeps th’ mind sharp. But it’s not th’ same as fightin’ me, per se … if that makes sense.”

“I see.” Jack was attempting to be serious, and Will wasn’t certain he’d caught the touch of dry sarcasm the blacksmith had inserted into his previous comment. Perhaps the problem was Will himself not being overly humorous most of the time. “So you’d rather I just give in to whatever you want to do to me, and melt languidly in your arms, is that it?”

This time, it seemed, Jack caught on. “Make things easier on my end,” he admitted.

Will couldn’t help grinning. “Not a chance, Captain.”

He’d planned to stride over and pull Jack up against him and ply the man’s mouth with his tongue, forcefully, to punctuate his change of heart. But he no more stopped in front of Jack than he felt a mixture of trepidation and anticipation blossom low in his gut, making him hesitate; it didn’t seem right, somehow, to treat this with such cavalier humor and force. Jack might have gotten away with it; Will felt he could not.

But Jack’s expression eased the quailing, his head slightly upturned, eyes dark and calm. “’S all right,” he reassured the smith softly, lifting a hand to touch Will’s elbow.

He didn’t mash his mouth against Jack’s, as planned. Instead, Will cupped Jack’s jaw into both large hands, holding the diamond-shaped face steady as he fastened his lips to Jack’s, sliding his nose against the side of the pirate’s. He didn’t want force; he wanted Jack to kiss him again, to not deny why he was doing it with some poor excuse, to admit it was because he had strong feelings for Will and wanted Will. Feeling guilty, he trailed his lips down into Jack’s close beard and closed his eyes.

“I know it wasn’t a distraction.” Will’s voice shook as he murmured against Jack’s jawline, muffled into the man’s ear. “I thought … I was still angry with you, and I thought you were trying to get my mind off that.”

“I won’t lie, I’d hoped it would,” Jack admitted, moustache brushing the hollow of Will’s neck. “But was more that I’d jus’ been wantin’ to do it for s’ long.”

There was the admission he’d waited for, without really knowing he’d wanted to hear it. “Jack.” He lifted his head and kissed the man again, feeling arms slide around his waist and upper back. “Oh …”


End file.
